


You Kill Me

by Ennead13x



Category: DCU - Comicverse, The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Countdown, Final moments, M/M, Realizations, Second Person, Thought Processes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennead13x/pseuds/Ennead13x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trickster only has a moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Kill Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written completely involuntarily. The first actual fic I’ve written since 2003 (which makes it the second one I’ve ever written), but is not at all the first plot-bunny to attach to my head and feed on my brain-meats. Unbetaed and ungrammatical, with ridiculous amounts of italics (and parentheses, which I love), second-person wtfery, and the angst of Countdown?
> 
> Suggested listening: [If it Kills Me (From the Casa Nova Sessions) ~ Jason Mraz](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CusGBZh5V_4)

You knew it’d catch up with you one day. Not like this though. Not on the run; not as a hero who’d always be remembered as a villain (and a two-bit one at that); not for love. So _stupidly_ in love you couldn’t even _think_ ‘til it was too late. You’d always been able to leave everyone else behind, but not Piper.  
  
 _Physically_ couldn’t, now. Obviously. You could always get _away_ before: Up in the air, out to Cali (and back again, and hadn’t _that_ been a trip), sticking closer to the guys or taking jobs far and wide. Became a fuckin’ g-man _knowing_ Little Lord Socialist would hate it. (Okay, so you hated it too [Sometimes. Maybe. It had gotten better without that huge weight pressing on your mind] and it had backfired majorly. _Now_ being a great example.)  
  
BUT – and there was that “but”, it was always the butt of the joke – _he kept coming back_ ; faster than even [Not-So]Lil’ Boomer’s ‘rangs (that still hurt, Piper take ca~are of me), like the most impressive yoyo trick you ever devised. The one that could trip up and hold a Flash, and took you _weeks_ of practice before it did anything more convoluted than leaping up and smacking you in the face. It wrapped around you and through you, twisted up inside you until all you could do was spit out curses, hoping to keep it away. You knew it was lame or stupid or pointless or – let’s be honest at the last, at very _least_ –  D) All of the Above.  
  
You kept at it anyway because what else were you gonna do? You’re the very antithesis of _type_ to begin with, not quite “tall, dark, and handsome”. Alright, so two outta three ain’t bad, but you’ve never seen your Hart with anyone _but_. (And doesn’t it just _burn_ that the only one you remember is the one with your name?) And by now you’re well acquainted with the taste of your ‘Walkers. That joke, all those fucking _jokes._ You’ve sounded so forced to _your own_ ears all this time, how come _Piper_ couldn’t hear it?  
  
Well, it won’t matter soon – it matters _now_ – ‘cause it’s you or him and there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide; nowhere you’d rather be than facing your love, making the leap, blood in your mouth from biting your tongue. You’re making this statement, even if it kills you.


End file.
